Gaara Drabbles
by Iteria
Summary: Stories about the smaller moments of Gaara's life as kazekage
1. Sleep

His living quarters have been outfitted with a bed despite his wishes to the contrary. The bed is an atrocity when set against the simple efficiency of the rest of Gaara's personal domain. The bed is much too large, possessing the ability to contain 3 people comfortably by his estimate and swallowing nearly all the free space in his meditation room-which he supposes is now a bedroom.

His desk has been removed as has the simple shelf he uses to store his various scrolls (He'll need to inquire into the location of both later). His small bureau and the desk's chair remain in the room, along the small garden he maintains. The garden contains mostly flowers and a few edible items from more hospitable climes. Not practical, strictly speaking, but Gaara gets a sense of pleasure from coaxing something to grow in the harsh desert environment of Suna.

Gaara finishes surveying the room, cataloging what items remain to him and checking for explosive seals and other traps (He knows the latter is unnecessary since a black ops squad has already made a sweep, but childhood habits are difficult to break). His first impression of the bed doesn't change. It's almost as if it was specifically chosen to be disharmonious with its surroundings. Given that Temari arranged to have it moved into his living quarters, he can't rule out that possibility.

Though, most likely this is some well-meant gift from Konoha. He doesn't know any other nation besides the Fire Country that produces red-hue wood. The bedframe is a stark contrast to the dark simple mainstays of his now bedroom. But, rather than a malicious assault to his sensibilities, he assumes the red wood is a homage to his well-known preference for the color. He just wishes the hue wasn't so bright.

Gaara sighs running his fingers over the intricate carvings in the frame. Even he can tell this is a beautiful piece of furniture befitting of a kage. No doubt the mattress is the best the council could import from Suna's surrounding allies. The pillows will be soft and plush. The comforter will be smooth and comfortable against his skin and provide suitable warmth for the cold desert nights. No one could ask for a finer bed to sleep in.

He misses his mediation mat already.

The bed represents just one of a series of baffling initiatives to ensure his continued well-being. After the Akatsuki incident, his siblings, subordinates and the citizenry at large have taken a great interest in his health and, in a sense, he is indescribably pleased about this. Three years ago, Gaara could not imagine a single person being sad if he died. Now an entire city worries about whether he overworks himself by refusing to enlist the help of aides with his paperwork—A service he doesn't need because he doesn't sleep and hasn't for the better part of two decades.

At least until tonight.

He supposes that he should be happy that his sister has developed such advanced negotiation skills over her time as an ambassador for Suna. He knows from several weeks of frustrating experience that Temari will not be entering into any unwise agreements on Suna's behalf. However, Gaara wishes that she would devote her energies to more worthy pursuits than his sleeping habits—or rather, lack thereof—pursuits such as watering rights with neighboring Kawa, or better trade and travel agreements with Iwagakure.

This is ridiculous. He's the military leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world. He shouldn't be beholden to written agreements regarding his sleeping habits as if he is an unruly child. He's already very behind in his paperwork due to the forced bed rest by his medical staff and the resultant reconditioning regime afterward. For nearly a month, he'd had no time to attend to his administrative duties. Weeks later he's still behind, though gaining ground. He should go back to his office and continue filling out the mountainous pile of paperwork there.

Gaara lifts the covers off the bed with his ever-present chakra-laced sand and pads over to the bed planning to do no such thing. Likely, the paperwork in his office is carefully hidden wherever the scrolls and writing instruments in his room are (He's impressed with the foresight to take the pens and ink. Kankurou always did have an attention to detail).

Sliding into his monstrosity of a bed, Gaara resolves to privately ask Lady Tsunade during her diplomatic visit tomorrow how she survives such indignities on a near daily basis.


	2. Bodyguards

Predictably, it was his brother's idea to staff him with black ops bodyguards. While common practice in most shinobi nations, Gaara felt it was unnecessary for a variety of reasons that were ignored or deflected by his siblings and the council at large. Lately, there has been no arguing with Kankurou or Temari about anything regarding his health and safety. Both hold enough sway over the council that within that week he was issued a duo of black ops bodyguards that shadowed him wherever he went within Sunagakure. That is, when Temari or Kankurou weren't seeing to the duty themselves.

Coyote is his partner for now as he moves through the first kata, movements automatic and practiced. She casually parries a strike meant for the mask that covers her face. Bobcat stands watch nearby, eyes vigilant behind a feline mask for any threats.

Coyote breaks form towards the first kata's end, dropping low and jabbing out suddenly at his side. Gaara doesn't stop his movements, in fact doesn't react at all. It is unnecessary. The sand that always pervades his presence hardens and Coyote strikes hard stone.

"One morning, Lord Gaara," Coyote says cradling her hand, "I'm going to touch you."

He comes to a rest, turns, then strikes the first pose for the second kata, silently asking Bobcat if he'd like to be his partner. Coyote is going to sulk for at least the next five minutes. Her taijutsu ability and speed are barely above his own. He doubts she will ever require his conscious attention, let alone strike him physically.

Bobcat leaves his chosen post and saunters over to him. Gaara begins the second kata, trusting Bobcat to properly engage him when he crosses the distance between them. Coyote and Bobcat are aware that their participation in his morning exercise is largely unnecessary. He would perform the katas if they were here or not. And indeed, many of his guards are not willing to engage him in any sort of combat, even choreographed.

Bobcat ducks in under a roundhouse, and flows effortlessly into the next movement. He, like all academy graduates, has performed this same attack pattern so many times it is practically instinct.

"How long are you going to sulk?" Bobcat calls once Gaara starts the third kata, performing a backflip then throwing three well aimed shuriken. The black op dodges with serial hops backward, before launching his own shuriken.

"I'm not sulking" Coyote replies from her vantage point, definitely sulking.

Gaara drops under Bobcat's roundhouse, feeling him graze the upturned tips of his hair. He sometimes forgets that Bobcat is faster than Coyote.

"You are sulking." Bobcat says catching Gaara's kunai with his own and guiding it away. "You're never going to hit Lord Gaara. You'd have to be as fast as Councilman Baki to even have a chance."

This is true. Gaara is fairly certain that Baki could strike him if he tried, though he wouldn't have the power necessary to pierce his sand armor. He supposes though, if caught unaware and at short range, it's possible that Baki could draw blood before he could summon it.

It's not something Gaara likes to think about.

Instead, he focuses his attention on beginning the fourth and penultimate kata of the morning, which starts with a leg sweep flowing upward with a kunai thrust.

Coyote mumbles something back. Gaara misses it, but assumes they've settled into their traditional morning banter. Although seemingly frivolous, he's come to understand the banter as a sort of freehand code the two black ops use to discuss and improve each other's techniques. He enjoys listening, though he's increasingly becoming a participant after he once commented on a stalemated argument that was entering its second hour.

Today's topic is summoning. Coyote derides Bobcat's summon, Priya, and he breaks form long enough to summon a shuriken to lazily toss in Coyote's general direction before throwing a strike for Gaara to parry. There's a short break in the argument-Coyote plays it off as indignation at the shuriken-that's meant to be an opening for him to comment if he wants to. Summoning is not an area he has much opinion about, so it doesn't take it, though he wonders that the opportunity to speak is there at all.

Gaara has never been good at understanding the intentions of others beyond his near instinctual ability to detect ill-intent. Coyote and Bobcat have shadowed him since the beginning and stayed long after many of his guards have chosen other assignments. They are emotive and talkative when Gaara is not attending his duties, a contrast to the near mute status of many of his other guards. Coming to rest from the end of the fifth kata, he wants to believe there's some meaning to that.

"Lord Gaara, you're free after the daimyo's visit today, right? Would you spar with me? I've been practicing a new technique. I'm sure I'm going to touch you this time!"

"You said that last time, Coyote. Give it up. It's impossible for you. Lord Gaara's on a complete different level than you."

"Stupid! I never said that I could defeat him. I just said I could touch him."

They descend into banter again. Gaara doesn't comment the entire journey to his office, although he is given opportunity. He privately hopes that means that these two see him as something closer than just their Kazekage.


End file.
